jokes, and sang songs over it, and replenished it with hot water to such
an extent that it gradually changed its nature and became that harmless
beverage loved by Frenchmen, _eau sucre_.

That it cheered was evident, for laughter was often loud and sometimes
long. That it did not inebriate was equally clear, for the talk of the
party was frequently grave as well as gay.

It was especially grave when, towards the end of the evening, McLeod
senior, in answer to some allusion of his guest as to the beauties of
Partridge Bay, became confidential, and told how he had once dwelt in
that settlement for many years, in a happy home which he had specially
built for himself, or rather, as he said, with a kindly glance at his
pretty daughter, which he had built specially for his wife and child.
How it had pleased God to take from him his dear partner before they had
been long in the new house; how the failure of a friend had involved him
in ruin, and compelled him to sell off all he had possessed and begin
life anew with the scanty remnants of his fortune; how he had taken the
advice of another friend, and come to Jenkins Creek to set up a
saw-mill, having previously invested nearly all his funds in an order
for goods from England, for the purpose of setting up a general store,
as it was highly probable the country would go on prospering, and the
demand for such a store become great; how he had had letters from his
youngest son, Roderick,--a lad of nineteen who had been educated in the
"old country,"--telling him that the goods had been bought and shipped
in the _Betsy_ of Plymouth, and how that he, Roderick, intended to take
passage in the same ship the week following, and join his father and
brothers in their new sphere of labour; how that, sometimes, he felt
depressed by the sudden reverse of fortune, but was always cheered and
raised up again by his daughter Flo, who had a wonderful way--somewhat
like her mother--of inducing him, when things looked darkest, to turn
his eyes to the source of all light, and comfort, and hope, and
prosperity.

You may be sure that Reginald Redding listened to all this with the
deepest interest and sympathy, for as he glanced at Flora's speaking
countenance--and he did glance at it pretty frequently--he observed new
beauty in her expression, and bright tear-drops in her eyes.

"Ah, Flo," said her father, when he had finished, "no one has such good
cause to regret the loss of our old home as yo